Fangs of the Serpent
by Keith Fraser
Summary: Crossover, AU. When the USA is conquered by the tyrannical Domination of the Draka, Bella becomes a slave and attracts the attention of an alluring, superhuman master. Edward seeks to liberate her...but freedom can be a hard thing to accept.
1. Prologue

_**Disclaimer:**__ Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. The Draka series is the property of SM Stirling and/or Baen Books. No money is being made from this fanfic and it will be removed if the above parties so request. All your base are belong to us._

**Content Warning:** A heads-up for Twilight fans who've never heard of this Draka thing before and weren't deterred by the M rating: this fic will get pretty dark, not necessarily graphic per se, but (hopefully) disturbing. There will be depictions of violence, sexuality and people generally not being very pleasant to each other. Canonically, the Draka are not a nice bunch in many ways, and all the more unsettling because in others they can be likeable, impressive and/or 'cool'. You can find out more about the Draka series very easily on Wikipedia or SM Stirling's website, which has excerpts from all the books (links in my author profile). I've attempted to include enough detail about them from the characters' POV to make the plot comprehensible to all.

**Fangs of the Serpent  
A Twilight/Draka Crossover  
Prologue**

I was ten years old when the world ended, suddenly and out of the blue on a clear, sunny day. If it hadn't been for Renée's random impulse to go to California for the weekend, I probably wouldn't have even known it was happening until Phoenix was obliterated in the second wave of nuclear warheads. Not that I knew much more at the time, of course, only that Renée was hugging me and crying and forcing me onto the school buses that were taking every child who could be rounded up into the mountains. Only later did I learn that the mayor of the town where we were staying had a brother-in-law in the Space Force who had called him to say that the missiles would be in the air very soon, and he should prepare for the worst.

None of us kids understood what was going on. We had all heard the scare stories about the Draka, the evil Snake people who ruled Europe, Africa and most of Asia, who kept human beings like dogs or cattle, who did unspecified horrible things to them and to each other. But we'd always been told that we were safe from them, that the U.S. military, and the wider Alliance for Democracy between all the free countries, would protect us and that one day all the slaves would be free and the world would be right. That was a lie, of course.

I never saw Renée again. I hope she died quickly, rather than from radiation sickness or the winter that followed. It was pure luck that the group I was in made it, thanks to finding a shelter in the mountains meant for politicians and other VIPs who never arrived. There was just enough food and fuel to keep us going through the two years of near-constant cold and sleet. We were joined a few weeks after the attack by a group of soldiers, and it was from them that we learned more about what had happened.

Apparently, the Draka had created some kind of disease that drove people mad, and infected thousands of key people with it - generals, sailors on nuclear submarines, even the President. They somehow activated it by radio, and suddenly the military was paralyzed, with no-one to give orders. London had even been destroyed by a missile launched by someone no longer in control of themselves. Our own spies had sabotaged the Draka's computers, but that only slowed them down. New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, Buenos Aires, Rio de Janeiro - all the major cities in the Americas were reduced to smoking craters by nuclear bombs or rocks dropped from space. The Japanese had blown up their entire country rather than be conquered, and spread radioactive dust across eastern Asia out of spite.

The only places the Alliance had managed to survive were far out in space. There had been a starship secretly under construction in the asteroid belt, and the Alliance fleet out there had driven the Draka back. Then, however, they made a deal so that the starship - the _New America_ - could fly off to another star and the people left behind on the asteroid bases could avoid being made into serfs. Most of the adults in the bunker celebrated at the news that someone had got away, but I just felt angry and resentful. What was so great about running off with their tails between their legs? Couldn't they have come back to Earth and rescued us?

/**/

The two years of winter were followed by two years of uncertainty and fear. Scouts who went out into what was left of the U.S. reported that the Draka had begun 'pacifying' the coasts, setting up bases and farms and enslaving or killing everyone who had survived the war. Our supplies began to run low, and the soldiers had to forage for surviving stores of preserved food or hunt for game.

Inevitably, of course, the Draka found our hideaway. When they arrived, dozens of helicopters blanketing the sky and loudhailers blaring demands to surrender, the soldiers doled out poison they had prepared for those who would rather die than be slaves. The teachers mixed it into Kool-Aid and gave it to the younger children, who died peacefully without knowing what was happening. Some of the teenagers chose the poison; others opted to go down fighting with the soldiers in the hope of taking a few of the enemy with them. Some just waited for the end.

I went and hid in the deepest part of the shelter. I was invisible enough among the mass of youngsters that no-one thought to offer me the poisoned chalice, but I wouldn't have taken it. Dying for love or grief, like Romeo and Juliet, had always seemed very romantic to me, but killing myself out of fear and hate didn't appeal. For no rational reason, I felt a strong, burning desire to live, to endure. Perhaps it was because I hadn't really lived yet; perhaps I was naively curious about what the Draka were actually like. In any case, I huddled in an alcove off a dead-end corridor with my hands over my ears, gnawing on my lower lip to keep from screaming at the sounds of gunfire and shouting from above.

Eventually the shooting died down. There was near-silence for an agonizingly long time, then finally I heard unnaturally heavy footsteps coming down the corridor towards me.

"Don't shoot! I surrender!" I squeaked before stepping out of my hiding place, hands held high. The sight that greeted me rooted me to the spot with terror and tore a scream from my lungs to echo down the passage. Facing me were two enormous creatures, like oversized gorillas covered in armour plates. Their heads were those of wolves or ferocious dogs, and they carried huge, boxy guns which they brought up to point at me. Transfixed, I stared down the twin muzzles and waited to die.

"Sit!" The sharp voice carried such authority that my legs finished turning to jelly and I dropped reflexively to my knees, even as the monster apes sat obediently on their haunches. A man in full-body armour stepped from behind them and took off his helmet, revealing close-cropped white-blond hair and a handsome aristocratic face with a hawklike profile. A shiver went through me as I somehow instinctively realized that this man was much more dangerous than the two animals. In all my fourteen years I had never seen anyone so supremely confident and assured.

"Well, well. What're you doing hiding away down here, little one?"

"Please sir, I didn't want to get shot by accident," I gabbled. "I give up, I submit, I'll be a serf, I won't fight. Please, just don't kill me."

"Hmm. What's your name, wench?" Brushing past the monsters, he grasped my chin in an armoured hand.

"Bella Swan, sir."

"Well, Bella Swan, you show a little more sense than most of your countryfolk. Perhaps we'll make something of you. Come along."

I let the Draka's iron grip on my arm haul me to my feet, and trotted obediently ahead of him and his beasts. Meekly, I fell in with the few other survivors as I was marched into the daylight to begin my new life as a serf of the Domination of the Draka.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	2. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer:** Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. The Draka series is the property of SM Stirling and/or Baen Books. No money is being made from this fanfic and it will be removed if the above parties so request. All your base are belong to us._

**Fangs of the Serpent**

**A Twilight/Draka Crossover**

**Chapter One**

_Larsdalen Plantation, Pacifica Province (formerly State of California), New Territories, Domination of the Draka  
Year Five of the Final Society (AD 2005, seven years after the Final War)_

I took great care dusting around the ornate Chinese vases on the mantelpiece in the mansion's main dining room. Precious, breakable objects and me did not mix too well. It would be a bad idea to make the head house-serf, Liu, think I was slacking off, but it would be far worse if I broke something. I had only earned the right to clean the upstairs rooms a few months ago - time blurred when every day was the same - by ruthlessly reining in my natural clumsiness.

I wore a thin, sleeveless white linen tunic like something out of old pictures of Ancient Greece. Its hemline was well above my knees, and it was accessorized by a belt of silk cord, silver bracelets and anklets...and a collar of the same metal with a padded lining. The outfit was comfortably cool in the California summer heat - the weather in this part of the world, at least, had mostly recovered from the nuclear winter - but it would have got me arrested for public indecency in most places in the pre-war USA, even some beaches (1). Still, it could be worse; I had seen serf dancers who had to perform naked except for jewellery and other ornamentation. The stories I had heard and half-understood as a child about how decadent and vile the Draka were had turned out to be both more and less than the truth.

After being marched from the shelter by the soldier who found me - I never found out his name - I had been herded into the back of a transport helicopter with the other survivors, mostly girls around my age. Most of them wailed and cried or shivered with fear, flinching every time a Draka or one of their monstrous soldiers - ghouloons, I later learned they were called - passed by. I remained aloof, wondering in a detached sort of way what would become of me, until one of the soldiers came up the ramp and beckoned to one of the older, prettier girls, a tall, tanned beauty with long dark golden hair. Her torn shorts and t-shirt barely covered her decently. She shook her head vigorously and shrank away against the wall, and he sighed and walked right up to her. No-one dared move to help her as he gripped her shoulders and spoke to her in a low voice, then led her away, shoulders hunched with terror but not daring to fight.

She was not the last; more Draka came to take their pick from the captives as the afternoon wore on and they completed their scouring of the bunker and the surrounding area. The second girl to be chosen - dark-skinned, tall, and strong-looking - smiled at the man who pointed to her and went with him quite meekly, but we never saw her again. The blonde girl and the others were returned seemingly unharmed. Some slumped exhausted in corners and refused to speak to anyone; others cried. All seemed dazed, disbelieving.

Finally, the Draka rounded up or killed the last stragglers. A half-dozen young children and a middle-aged woman who kept her arms round them and prayed continuously in a low voice were added to the group. Then the hatches were closed amid the sudden thunder of the rotors and we were ferried away to a processing camp on the coast. The Security Directorate officer leading the guard detail - slave soldiers, not ghouloons, thankfully - that shepherded us into the holding pens was quick to drum our new status into our heads.

"From this day forward, you are serfs of the Domination of the Draka. We care nothing for your feelings on the subject; we demand only your unquestioning obedience. Submit, and you will be treated well. Refuse, and you will die. Either way, your lives are no longer your own."

Remembering those times made my hands shake, and one of the vases wobbled alarmingly as my duster slipped. Heart in my mouth, I clutched at it with both hands and managed to steady it. Then I carefully backed away from the mantelpiece and sank into a crouch, biting a knuckle to keep myself from crying. When the feeling had subsided somewhat, I took a deep, shuddering breath and forced myself upright to get back to work.

"Good morning, Bella." The voice from only a few feet behind me made me jump.

"Oh! Good morning, Master Sven." To my intense relief, I managed not to drop anything or trip as I spun round and bowed low.

Sven was the youngest of my masters, the Larssens', four children, just returned from boarding-school for the summer. He was nearly fourteen - I remembered his birthday party last August, which had been one of the occasions I had seen naked serf dancers - and already looked almost like a grown man, more than six feet tall and muscled like a statue of a Greek god. All the Draka under the age of thirty were superhumanly athletic and handsome or beautiful; they were _homo dr__akensis_, genetically engineered that way, after all. Sven was particularly striking even for one of them, however, with unusually fine features and large deep blue eyes that held an otherworldly air. The other house-serfs gossiped about him incessantly, speculating with a mixture of fear and excitement about which girl would attract the attention of his limitless _drakensis_ appetites next.

"I hope you're well?"

"Yes, thank you, master." I had had no notion that he even knew my name until today, and it was impossible to suppress a guilty flush of pleasure at being greeted by him, even in my nervous state. He wore only a loose set of cotton exercise pants, a towel round his shoulders and water gleaming in his white-blond hair from a swim.

"Ah, I think I see something in your hair."

I kept very still and held my breath as he approached me and brushed away some strands of cobweb from above my eyes - they must have got there while I was dusting. I caught his clean, masculine scent as he leaned in close.

"There. All gone." He patted my hair very gently - I knew he could snap my neck like a twig, from seeing him exercising.

"Th-thank you, master," I stammered again. Looking up shyly (slaves should not look their betters in the eyes), I saw him smiling kindly at me, his eyes intent. My heart lurched.

"You're welcome." He looked down at me for a few more seconds, and for a silly moment I wondered if he had other intentions beyond simply saying hello - though why he would waste his time with me when he could have any girl on the estate, I had no idea. The notion frightened me, yet I felt a warm rush of something indefinable on top of the fear. However, I was proved wrong when he simply patted me on the head again and turned to leave with a small wave, leaving me staring after him.

/**/

The following evening, Mr. Larssen - Sven's father - was holding a dinner party. To my relief, I was not one of those called on to wait at table - Draka parties could get quite hazardous for serfs in the vicinity, and knowing my luck I would probably spill something on someone important. Instead, I was occupied ferrying full dishes to the servers outside the dining room, and taking dirty ones back to the kitchens. It therefore came as something of a surprise to me when a voice that was not that of another serf called to me in the corridor.

"You, girl. Over here." The voice belonged to a middle-aged Draka with thinning grey hair and an ugly scar down one cheek.

I scurried over despite the gnawing fear in my insides. "Yes, master? What can I do for you?" I blessed the need to keep my eyes respectfully down, not wanting to look at him.

"Oh, I'm sure I can think of something." He grasped my arm with one hand and raised my chin with the other, forcing me to meet his gaze. I smelled wine on his breath, and realized with horror that his eyes were devouring me, scanning hungrily across my body. My fear must have shown in my eyes, because he grinned and said: "Skittish little wench, aren't you? Are you a virgin?"

"Y-yes, master." I closed my eyes, blushing red-hot with embarrassment. Sex, like everything else, was not something serfs got to make their own choices about when the Draka were involved. However much I accepted my status, I was still pathetically proud of my virginity, hoping against hope that one day I would find someone who truly loved me and who I could be with for my first time. I should have known it was a futile dream; sooner or later a master or a serf of superior status would command me to their bed, no matter how ugly and plain I was.

"Really? This place must be full of eunuchs, for a sweet morsel like you to go untasted. No matter; I love breaking in a new mount. Don't be shy; you should be honoured to be deflowered by a Draka, rather than some fumbling serfboy." The hand holding my chin moved down to my breast and squeezed painfully as his coarse grin widened. "I'll make sure you remember this night."

Shame and outrage warred within me; I wanted to scream, slap him, protest that he had no right, but all my objections died unborn. Here and now, he had every right; I was a slave, a piece of property, with no more power to object to how my body was used than a chair to object to anyone sitting on it. If I tried to fend him off, he would overpower and ravish me anyway, and then I would be punished terribly, perhaps sent to work in the fields. Maybe it would be over quickly if I just went away inside myself and bit my tongue to silence my tears and cries...

"Merarch (2) Jensen!" I jumped at the sound of another voice "Excuse me, but that serf isn't available for entertainment tonight; she's designated off-limits at the moment. If you return to the party, Liu will point you in the direction of the ones that are available."

"I want this one, Sven. Now leave us in peace."

"Perhaps you didn't hear me. That serf is off-limits; please unhand her." Sven strode round the corridor, his tiger-like beauty and effortless confidence a stark contrast to the drunken man holding me.

"Get lost, boy. I won't tell you again." The last word came out slurred, and the Merarch stumbled as he advanced a pace toward Sven, still not releasing me.

"You're drunk, Merarch. Kindly-"

"Don't go taking that tone with me just because you're New Race, pup. Your father and I go way back - he won't mind me helping myself to a little something." He gripped my arm tighter, and I squeaked at the lust in his voice.

"Let. Her. Go." Sven's voice had turned hard and dangerous, his eyes narrowing. I was caught between two dangerous predators, one proud and noble and the other vicious and sly, like a gazelle hunted by a lion and a jackal.

"Or what? You'd fight one of your father's guests over a _serf_?"

"Over this serf, yes. I may not be old enough to issue a formal challenge, but I won't let you touch her."

I was so shocked I almost forgot to breathe, and barely noticed the Merarch let go of my arm. What on earth did Sven mean by that?

"Pathetic," Jensen sneered. "You're a disgrace to the name of Draka, and you need a lesson in manners!" Transfixed, I stared as he charged, fists raised, at Sven, who gave him a feral, snarling grin and moved almost lazily to meet him. What followed was too fast for me to follow properly, but I could easily see that Sven had the upper hand. The Merarch obviously knew how to fight, even in his drunken state, but he might as well have been moving in slow motion. Sven flowed out of the way of his every blow with a small smile on his face. When he tired of this and fought back, it was swift, brutal and merciless. I looked away, whimpering, as he landed a punch like a piledriver into Jensen's midsection, knocking the wind from him. Two more equally devastating hits sounded as I backed away, then the wall shook from the impact of a body being slammed against it.

My legs failed me and I collapsed, huddling into a foetal position on the floor. I let out a squeak as a hand touched my shoulder, but the grip was warm and soothing rather than harsh. Fingers combed through my hair.

"Ssh, ssh. You're safe now, Bella. He won't bother you again."

"Thank you, Master Sven," I managed. His proximity was calming. I could feel my panic receding as if by magic.

"Let's get you some fresh air." He gently but firmly scooped me up in his arms as if I weighed nothing and carried me outside to the veranda despite my weak protestations. I managed to sit up when he set me down on the steps. While I got my breathing under control and wiped away my tears, he patted me on the back and stroked my hair. It felt excessively good; if I had been a cat, I might well have purred contentedly. As it was, I began to lean instinctively towards him, and hastily checked myself. However, he had already noticed, and chuckled, moving closer and letting me lean on his shoulder. I closed my eyes, feeling safe for once.

"May...may I ask a question, Master Sven?" I said at length in a moment of insane boldness.

"Ask away."

"What did you mean when you said I was...off-limits?" I wanted to ask why he had singled me out when he defied Merarch Jensen, but I was too afraid.

"Oh, that. You know, of course, that the overseers can usually command any serf to their bed, within reason. Well, Father has made an exception in your case and notified all the overseers and senior serfs that you are not to be touched. From what I've heard and sensed among them, many would very much like to."

My confusion was only increased. Many of the men in the household...wanted me? But they weren't allowed? I had always assumed, gratefully, that I was too plain and unremarkable to be worth their time. "Why?"

He gave me a crooked smile that made me swallow. "Why do they wish to bed you, or why has Father forbidden it?"

"Ah, the second one. Master," I added hastily.

"Because I asked him to."

This time I really did hold my breath. Sven had done something like that for me? What possible reason could he have?

"I sense that I haven't answered your question." He continued to smile teasingly, warming me from the inside out. "I asked Father to give that order after he told me I could have a concubine for my next birthday."

Young Draka boys from reasonably wealthy families, I knew, were often given a well-trained serf girl as a gift, to serve their desires and keep them from occupying the rest of the house-staff too much. However, I still couldn't see what that had to do with me.

"Naturally, he invited me to take a look at the interactive catalogues and choose a girl to suit my taste, but I told him that I didn't want a stranger for my companion. I wanted you."

I stared up at him, my mouth opening and closing in shock at his simple statement. If I had been standing, I would have collapsed in a heap again. _Me?_

"You have no idea how special you are, do you, Bella?" Sven's finger suddenly traced down my cheek. "It's startlingly obvious to a _drakensis_, but even humans can sense it dimly. Your scent, your mind...they're unusual, exotic. And however much you might think otherwise, you are beautiful. I thought so when I first saw you, but you've blossomed so much since last year."

"Master..." The word tasted different in my mouth. A thousand emotions warred in my mind as his touch moved down my neck and his face drew closer. His kiss was scorchingly forceful, claiming and marking me as his. Iron arms enfolded me, imprisoning me in a velvet-lined cage from which I felt no urge to escape. One emotion, so unfamiliar it took me a moment to identify it, won out - desire. Mouth-drying, knee-weakening desire. My entire body felt as if it was on fire, and I gave a disappointed moan when his lips parted from mine.

"You should go and rest; tell anyone who objects to talk to me." He kissed me again, making a shudder run through me, then released me from his embrace and stood up. "My birthday is in two weeks. Very soon, Bella, you will be mine. Until then..." With a last, too-brief caress of my cheek and a heart-stopping smile, he departed, leaving me shivering and breathless on the steps.

**TO BE CONTINUED**

Notes for Draka virgins:  
1) Nudity taboos, sexual mores etc. are rather more liberal/loose in Draka society than in real life; conversely, pre-Final War American society in the Drakaverse was more conservative.  
2) 'Merarch' is the Draka equivalent of 'Colonel'; they use a lot of ancient/classical terminology.


	3. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer:**__ Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. The Draka series is the property of SM Stirling and/or Baen Books. No money is being made from this fanfic and it will be removed if the above parties so request. All your base are belong to us._

**Fangs of the Serpent**

**A Twilight/Draka Crossover**

**Chapter Two**

The next morning, my mind was still befuddled by Sven's revelation, making me blunder half-asleep through my work. I was shouted at three times for clumsiness or not following an order I hadn't heard. The hardest part was knowing what to feel. Fourteen years of being a good little American told me that becoming a Snake's bedwarmer was the final indignity, that I should make them kill me or find some other way to die before submitting. Three years as a meek and obedient serf told me that I should be glad to receive such flattering attention from a Draka, let alone a relative increase in status. The pessimistic, rational part of my mind asked whether Draka could feel anything like love or even affection, especially for a mere serf. My heart, meanwhile, beat with excitement and sent warmth coursing through me at the memory of Sven defending me, and at the memory of his inflaming touch, his lips against mine...

"Bella!" Shana, the serf in charge of the laundry, yelled in my ear, making me jump. I had been standing staring stupidly at the row of baskets of dirty washing, trying to remember which one the sheets from the guest rooms were supposed to go in.

"Y-yes?"

"Stop daydreaming and take these up to the swimming pool." She took the pile of used sheets from my unresisting hands and thrust a pile of fluffy, newly laundered white towels at me. Confused, I opened my mouth to protest that this wasn't part of my usual duties, but thought better of it and took them without a word.

The swimming pool area felt very hot and bright after the cool corridors inside. Morning sunlight shimmered off the marble walls, and the beautifully patterned tiles were already warm beneath my sandaled feet. There was someone in the pool swimming lengths underwater, so fast I could barely make out their form; otherwise, I was alone. Moving briskly but not too briskly, to make the most of the sunshine, I laid out a towel on each of the loungers beside the pool, then left the remainder in the hamper by the door to the house.

"Ah, Bella!" a familiar voice called from the pool. "I wanted to see you again; wait here, I'm nearly done."

"Yes, Master Sven!" I replied nervously, turning round only to see his golden head disappearing below the water again. Obediently, I returned to the row of loungers and knelt at the end to wait. Thankfully, I had grown used to sitting like this over time; it had used to make my legs ache.

After ten minutes or so, there was a splash and the sound of feet on the ladder, and Sven rose into my view like a sea-god emerging from the waves. First his head - handsome face smiling, hair plastered wet and darkened to spun gold - then his powerful shoulders and arms propelling him up the ladder in a ripple of muscle, then his sun-burnished torso, then...

He wasn't wearing anything.

My cheeks burned, and I fought to keep my gaze steady on the ground three feet in front of me. I had known perfectly well that the Draka didn't bother with swimsuits - that they found the concept amusing, in fact - and seen them exercising or swimming naked from a distance many times. That was very different to seeing one up close, let alone the one who would shortly become my direct owner in a more profound sense than ever before.

He stood with his arms outstretched at his sides, water dripping from his perfect form to puddle on the tiles. For a moment I thought he was posing, which seemed rather odd, then I realized that he was waiting for me to dry him off - that was the main job of the pool attendants, after all. Feeling both idiotic and horribly embarrassed, I snatched up the nearest towel and approached him with considerable trepidation. How hard could it be, I told myself firmly. It was just like drying myself, except with a much finer towel and some...different bits.

Sven remained unmoving and steady as a rock while I gingerly ran the towel over the sculpted muscle of his chest, back and arms. Try as I might, I couldn't help but brush his skin with my fingers a few times. It felt strange, hard but warm and smooth like living iron. I screwed my eyes shut as I moved below his waist, and somehow managed to complete the task without incident.

"Well done, Bella," he said warmly as I finished with his feet.

"I'm sorry, Master," I stammered, backing away gratefully. "I haven't...done this before."

"Of course you haven't. It's quite all right; I would rather have you here than anyone else."

A thrill ran down my spine at that. He took my hand to draw me up - even standing, he still towered over me. I had no idea where to look, and settled for gazing into the distance over his shoulder, but he leant down and cupped my cheek, staring into my face so that his azure eyes and chiselled features filled my vision. Lost in his beauty, I only noticed him lean in to kiss me when his mouth touched mine, firm and hot and possessive just like before. My eyes relaxed closed as his arms gently encircled my waist to draw me closer. Even in my blissful trance, I was all too aware that the only thing separating us was the thin fabric of my tunic. I wondered - part of me screaming in terror, another part in excitement - if he had more in mind than just kissing, but I was proved wrong when he finally broke away. He released me gently, my legs barely able to support me as I quivered like jelly, and shrugged into the robe draped across one of the loungers.

At a gesture, I sank down at his feet while he sprawled half-lying in the seat. His devastatingly frank gaze made my body tingle as if it was somehow a physical sensation. I knew full well that his thoughts weren't a million miles from those in Merarch Jensen's mind when he looked me over the night before, but this felt different, special.

"I should apologize to you, Bella."

What madness was this? Draka didn't apologize to serfs, or indeed much at all.

"I sprang my news on you at a rather inappropriate time, when you had had a bad shock from that drunken boor trying to force himself on you. I hope I didn't make you too uncomfortable."

"No, Master!" I insisted. _You can do whatever you like to me,_ I thought but didn't say. _Why are you being so...nice?_

"Brave girl." Sven reached out and stroked my hair, shifting strands out of my face. "You're so beautiful, Bella. I could just take you right now..."

He could indeed. Even if I could have stopped him, I wouldn't have tried, in that desire-soaked moment. Unbidden, I saw in my mind's eye the image of my frail human body writhing beneath his inhumanly strong one, and swayed towards him in surrender. If this was damnation, I thought, then its fires were a welcome warmth.

"But no. Waiting will make the pleasure all the sweeter for the anticipation. That's how the Yankees used to do things, I understand."

Speechless, breathless, I nodded.

"Is this what you want, Bella?"

"Master? I...I don't understand."

"Becoming my concubine. Does it please you?"

I had no idea what to say. Was he trying to lead me into saying something that would get me into trouble? Or was he asking an honest question?

"Don't worry, Bella, I'm not trying to trick you. I only want to know your feelings because I care about them, and about you."

My mouth flapped open and closed in shock. Did he- Was he saying that he _loved_ me? Or...something like that, at least?

He ran a fingertip down my cheek. "I realize this must be difficult for you; don't answer yet. Know, though, that I won't force you to anything against your will. I want your heart, not just your body."

"Sv...Master..." Golden warmth suffused me at his touch, his smile, his words.

"Oh, Mother was discussing you with me this morning at breakfast."

I blinked at the abrupt change of subject. Did Mrs. Larssen approve of her son's choosing me as his concubine, I wondered? Did it matter? He wasn't fully an adult yet even by Draka standards (I often had to remind myself that he was only thirteen, and had wondered if I should be bothered by that), but I didn't know whether his parents had any say in who he took to bed. I supposed they could refuse to give me to him, since they were my owners at the moment.

"She was concerned that you might not be suited to your new role, not having been trained in pleasure. I assured her that that didn't matter to me at all." Sven looked properly outraged on my behalf. "She did think, though, that it might be for the best if you had some idea of what to expect, so she's arranged for a tutor to visit next week and teach you a few things that might be useful."

I wondered what having a conversation like that with Renee would be like; I couldn't even begin to imagine it, my mind just rebelled at the very thought. "I...that was very kind of her, Master. I'll do my best to learn well." What else could I say?

"I'm sure you will." Sven smiled at me again, and my heart turned somersaults.

/**/

"Never? Not even once?"

"No, ma'am," I mumbled, staring at the floor, blushing beetroot-red and sure that I would burst into flames from sheer embarrassment. "I'm sorry."

"Gracious, child, I'm not angry with you! Come, look at me." Lakshmi, the serf teacher who had come to give my instruction, grasped my chin with her dusky hand and gently lifted it to look me in the eye. She was maybe in her mid-thirties but still very beautiful, black-haired and emphatically curved with a tiny waist emphasized by her outfit, which left her midriff bare. "You poor thing...seventeen years old, never touched by man or woman…not even your own hands?"

I shook my head wordlessly.

She tutted and patted me kindly on the cheek. "You poor, poor girl. The Yankees taught you such things were dirty, didn't they? Maybe they said you'd go blind?"

I nodded, relieved that she understood. Growing up in a bunker, living in close quarters tightly supervised by stern, harassed middle-aged and elderly teachers, I had been bombarded with more than my fair share of warnings about the filthiness and immorality (and, above all, Draka-ness) of 'self-abuse' and other even more vaguely defined sins. One girl in my dorm had had to sleep with mittens taped to her hands for two weeks after one of the most draconian teachers dragged her shamefaced out of the toilets by her ear, and I had heard that the boys got even worse punishments from the male teachers.

"You do at least know where babies come from, I hope?"

"Of course!" One of the older girls in the bunker had got pregnant about a year before we were discovered. The boy responsible had been thrown out into the wilderness to fend for himself, and all kinds of rumours and counter-rumours had flown around about whether the girl had been willing or not. She had later miscarried, or so we were told.

"Well, that's something."

"I'm sorry," I said again, feeling incredibly stupid and foolish. My dead country's morals had done it no good, and now they were going to spoil my chance at finding some sort of happiness among the Draka. Sven would send me away when I shrank guiltily from his touch, I just knew it. Tears pricked at my eyes.

"There, there, child." Lakshmi got up from the divan where she had been sitting, sat down next to me and put her plump, warm arm around my shoulders. "Not your fault. Understand this: there's absolutely no shame in anything I'm going to teach you. Everyone has these feelings; everyone enjoys acting on them in one fashion or another. Forget anything those sour old prudes and god-botherers taught you. All right?"

I nodded, willing to trust this confident, obviously experienced woman.

"Now, how do you feel about the young master, the one you're to be given to? Be honest, now; nothing you say goes beyond this room."

"Uh..." I blinked, confused by the change of subject. "Master Sven is very kind, and very handsome. I'm very lucky that he chose me for his concubine."

She gave me a searching look and then nodded. "Sounds like you believe most of that. But how do you feel about him as a man? How does he make you feel here-" she placed two fingers just above my heart "-and here?" She moved her hand down to my lap, making me squeak.

"I..." My cheeks burned again; I could barely think how to put the feelings Sven aroused in me into words, never mind describe them out loud. "I like him. I really like him," I added hastily as Lakshmi raised an impatient eyebrow. "When he's around, I feel...hot and cold at the same time. He's only touched me and kissed me a little, a couple of times, but each time I wanted more. I wanted...I wanted to touch him too, but I didn't dare." The words poured out of me against my will, like a waterfall.

She showed not a trace of embarrassment; on the contrary, she looked pleased. "We can work with that. All right; you want to please him, don't you?"

"Y-yes," I blurted out.

"Good. I'm going to teach you the basics of satisfying a man - it's not that difficult, really, they're simple creatures at heart. If we have time later in the week, we'll move on to the more advanced subject of women. You may not need that," she said at my bemused look, "but Master Sven may want to enjoy you with another wench or two on the side, and even if he doesn't, well, you may find it comes in handy at other times." This thoroughly disconcerting last part was delivered with a wink; there was no time for me to consider any of it, as she pressed on. "To begin with, we'll introduce you to some of what you've been missing out on all these years. Get undressed, and I'll demonstrate for you."

Lakshmi stood and began briskly and efficiently unfastening her blouse; I slowly pulled my tunic over my head. The house-staff used communal bathing facilities, so I was used to undressing around other women, but this felt very different. When I had overcome my shyness and folded my clothes neatly at the end of the divan, Lakshmi had already lain down on her own couch, her coffee-coloured body smooth and voluptuous like some of the paintings in the main rooms of the mansion. She looked completely relaxed and natural in her nudity, while I sat hunched and fidgeting.

"Now, watch closely, Bella," she said with a warm smile, "I'll want you to copy what I'm doing shortly."

/**/

Lying in my bunk in the house-serf quarters that night, I was unable to sleep. The even breathing of the three girls I shared the dormitory room with indicated that they had no such troubles - they had been working all day, not learning and feeling strange new things. Lakshmi had told me a little about herself as we ate a companionable lunch together - she had been orphaned and enserfed as a young child when the Draka overran India in 1975, yanked from a little-remembered life as a dirt-covered peasant girl into luxury and comfort as an elite courtesan before moving on to teach others. The afternoon was as embarrassing as the morning but less exciting, as we ran through details of the male anatomy and the uses thereof.

Remembering the lessons made me think of Sven and my impending deflowering again. Now that I had a clearer picture of what he might do to and with me, I was both more and less nervous than before. My moral dilemma at least seemed to have receded a little since the conversation by the pool. Sven had feelings for me, he had said so himself - something that would have probably made other Draka despise or laugh at him if they overheard it. The excitement I felt around him, at the mere thought of him, couldn't possibly be so terribly wrong - and if it was, well, I didn't care all that much. Being his, cared for and protected, would be infinitely preferable to death, loneliness, or abuse at the hands of other Draka or serfs.

Recalling his touch yet again made me feel warm and shift under the covers. I hastily pushed the memory away - I would never get to sleep with such thoughts rattling around in my head - but it was difficult. Tiredness eventually won out and I drifted off into vivid dreams which floated ephemerally away to leave only a few tantalizing recollections.

It was still dark when I snapped suddenly awake and opened my eyes. I had the briefest glimpse of someone sitting on the edge of the bed, then a shockingly cold, smooth hand was clapped over my mouth; I never even saw the owner move. The intruder's pale face appeared very close to mine, and they whispered very softly in my ear.

"Don't be afraid, Bella." It was a man's voice, speaking American English rather than the Draka dialect, with a pleasant and rather old-fashioned accent.

That was all very well for him to say, I thought; he wasn't the one with a stranger looming over him in the dark.

"I'm not going to hurt you. My name is Edward Cullen. I'm here to rescue you."

**TO BE CONTINUED**

**Notes: **From the feedback I've had so far, people seem to be enjoying this fic. However, I've mainly heard from Draka fans - I'd be interested in hearing the views of Twilight fans previously unfamiliar with the Draka series. I know you're there, so don't be shy! ;-)


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